


I been on my own for long enough (maybe you can show me how to love, maybe)

by girlsarewolves



Series: treats [12]
Category: Skinwalkers (2006)
Genre: Character(s) of Color, F/M, Getting Together, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon, mentions of blood and urine and shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25266964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/pseuds/girlsarewolves
Summary: She’s black hair and pink mouth and dead eyes. Lithe body and uncoordinated grace. All wrapped in a layer of numbness that plays at apathy. She thinks she doesn’t care because she doesn’t give a damn. She doesn’t care because she can’t, but she wants so badly to give a damn that it causes her pain if she thinks about it. So she just doesn’t.You feel something old and dead and buried in you. The bones of a life you cast off, where you gave too much of a damn about lost causes, the helpless frustration of fighting a losing battle. You remember the taste of life and freedom and reality, sweet and savory and raw in your gullet. You want to see her dead eyes come to life when she tastes it, too.
Relationships: Sonja/Caleb Varek
Series: treats [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434862
Kudos: 3
Collections: Battleship 2020, Battleship 2020 - Red Team





	I been on my own for long enough (maybe you can show me how to love, maybe)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheYearOfTheWolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYearOfTheWolf/gifts).



* * *

You want her.

You want her so bad you can already taste the sweetness of her on your lips. You aren’t sure which it is - sweat, sex, or blood, but you lick your lips and swear you taste it all.

She’s black hair and pink mouth and dead eyes. Lithe body and uncoordinated grace. All wrapped in a layer of numbness that plays at apathy. She thinks she doesn’t care because she doesn’t give a damn. She doesn’t care because she can’t, but she wants so badly to give a damn that it causes her pain if she thinks about it. So she just doesn’t.

You feel something old and dead and buried in you. The bones of a life you cast off, where you gave too much of a damn about lost causes, the helpless frustration of fighting a losing battle. You remember the taste of life and freedom and reality, sweet and savory and  _ raw _ in your gullet. You want to see her dead eyes come to life when she tastes it, too.

You want  _ her. _

You want her so bad you’re already hard, can already feel the sticky damp of your cock leaking.You aren’t sure which you want to do first, fuck her or turn her - but you’re pretty sure you could do both at the same time, and she’d welcome it.

She’s dying to know what it feels like to be alive. She’s walking, talking, breathing, hearing, seeing, tasting, smelling, but it’s not living. Everything is so muted, and she  _ knows it _ , and you can’t remember ever coming across someone without the gift that knew what they were missing without ever knowing what they are missing.

But she knows. She doesn’t know what she’s missing, just that she’s missing it, and existence without living is killing her like a slow acting poison in her veins.

You want her.

You want to see what she’s like when she’s fully alive.

So you wait for the moon, wait for the change, wait for all the screams and the shouts and the stink of fear and urine and the thunder of guns going off until bullet smoke snuffs out the stench of cigarettes, and you find her in the chaos.

She’s waiting, too. She sees you in all your bestial, inhuman glory.

And she  _ wants it _ . 

  
She wants  _ you _ , too.

* * *


End file.
